


Spirits of All Kinds

by Kami018



Category: A Hat in Time (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27773965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kami018/pseuds/Kami018
Summary: There is more then one kind of spirit, my friend. You are something everyone knows, someone dead who either refuses or can't move on.The spirits that I talk too, the ones that I can see but you can't are the ones that help the world function.If I stay long enough, you'll learn to see them too, learn their importance to the world.You'll also learn how bloody annoying they can be.
Kudos: 5





	1. The Trespasser

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings.  
> If you're new, welcome and I hope you enjoy this story.  
> If you're a returning reader, I know that I have another story that I'm working on, but for the life of me I just can't get over that block. Then this happened and I just had to write it down. I'm sorry
> 
> I write for a hobby and so updates are going to very sporadic and inconsistent.

The path split in two just before them. One was well trodden, a path made by thousands of feet over a few centuries, going around the foreboding forest. The other, nigh imperceptible because of centuries of disuse, went through said forest.

They chose the path less trodden without hesitancy, their pace even and steady, never breaking.

The warmth of the sun soon disappeared, replaced by moonlight and the sounds of nightlife. They looked at their watch: _2 pm._

Their pace didn’t break.

The forest looked sick. The tree’s looked dead, the grass looked dry, the air looked poisoned. They knew better, the land wasn’t blighted, the air wasn’t toxic, and the water ran clear. They knew it was simply the forest’s way to cope with what had happened to it, all those centuries ago.

Their pace didn’t break.

If it wasn’t for their experience as both a hunter and trapper back in their home, they wouldn’t have perceived the many traps, both of physical and magical make, that were made. They simply went around them, avoiding the traps with ease.

Their pace didn’t break.

Strange, ghostly, doll-like creatures darted across their path, many trying to spook them, others just fleeing at the sight of them, few trying to lure them into one of the many traps. 

They waved at the ones trying to startle them, a slight shake of the shoulders signalling their amusement at their attempts.

They shook their finger at the ones trying to lure them, like a parent scolding a child.

They sighed gently at the ones fleeing them, their shoulder’s slumping with apparent disappointment.

Their pace didn’t break.

Odd noodle-esk creatures with masks floated in the air, keeping their distance but keeping pace with the strange masked trespasser. The trespasser waved at them, seeming totally at ease in both body and aura.

Their pace didn’t break.

The inhabitants of the forest watched the trespasser cautiously, some have fled to go get their ‘boss’ when the traps and their tactics to scare them away weren’t working. Until the boss returned, those that remained watched the trespasser make their way down the nigh non-existent path. They seemed friendly enough, looking for all the world like they were just making their way through.

The inhabitants weren’t stupid, many have done this before this trespasser. Many of them doing harm to the forest or to its inhabitants.

They will watch, even if the trespassers path niggled something at the back of their head.

One of the doll-like creatures shook their head, trying to get rid of the annoying feeling. This was a mistake. The doll was already balancing quite precariously on the thin branch, and their movements caused the branch to jostle them.

The doll lost their balance and started to fall.

Their pace broke.


	2. Trespassing Kindness

Very few things could beat a good book, in Snatcher’s opinion. Terrorizing fools who trespass in his forest and eating their soul only just beats that.

With time to himself, Snatcher picked up his favorite law book to read once more.

He had about seven minutes to read quietly to himself before some of his minions rushed up to his hollow.

“Boss! Boss!”

“Some weirdo in a poncho is here.”

“They’re avoiding all the traps!”

“They’re not even weirded out by us.”

Whelp, looks like reading time is over.

Putting the stupidly big law book away, Snatcher left his hollow and stretched out his senses to find this trespasser. It wasn’t hard to find them.

_The mist of a waterfall hitting your face, bare feet in the sand as the ocean gently laps over them, reading a book by a warm fire in the dead of winter, a blade cutting down a foe intent to hurt you no matter what._

A rather pleasant aura, but foreign all the same. And Snatcher doesn’t take too kindly to trespassers.

Making his way there, Snatcher kept an ‘eye’ on this trespasser. Their aura never really reacted strongly. Sure, he can feel that they were amused most of the time, most likely at the attempt of his minions trying to either lure them into a trap or just scare them out of the forest. Sometimes they would feel sad, he wasn’t sure why but they did on occasion.

Then there was a split second that they were startled, soon replaced with determination to _save._

Snatcher came upon the scene then, though hidden at the moment.

It didn’t take a genius to guess that one of his minions fell out of a tree, ripping out a seam on their arm in the process. The trespasser reacted in the moment, rushing forward to catch them before they hit the ground.

The trespasser was able to catch them.

What Snatcher didn’t expect was for them to pull out a spool of dark green thread and a needle.

“Would you like for me to repair that tear? That can’t be very comfortable.”

Everyone was taken aback at that, literally no one before this trespasser even _apologized_ for knocking the minions over, much less offering to _repair_ damages.

The minion in _her_ , the trespasser sounded female, dumbly nodded.

The trespasser knelt and placed the minion back on their feet, prepping her needle.

Gently holding their arm, the trespasser stitched the seam close with small, slightly crooked stitches.

“It’s not the prettiest job in the world, but it’s functional and will hold as long as you don’t make falling out of trees a regular habit.” she said with an amused lilt in her voice.

The minion stood there dumbly, idly rubbing the new stitches.

The trespasser gently patted their head before standing back up, continuing her steady pace once again.

Snatcher, befuddled, promptly shook his head. It didn’t matter that she was strangely considerate and literally not doing anything to provoke anyone here, she is trespassing. And trespassers are free labor.

Snatcher placed a trap right as her foot hit the ground, triggering it.


	3. Binding Contracts

The trespasser halted and looked around at her new surroundings, very confused. She swore there wasn’t a trap there, and she isn’t usually wrong about that.

She turned around once more when _something_ popped out of the either.

“AHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! FOOOOOOOOOOOOOL!!”

She almost lost her composure.

For anyone else, this would be terrifying. Not to her, this spirit, the Snatcher if she is remembering correctly, reminded her too much of those wacky arm, inflatable, tube men that she would see on occasion. Or a weird snake, which she fines cute.

“You blew it! You’ve totally screwed yourself! Nobody enters my home and leaves in one piece!”

“I apologize if my presence in this forest is unwelcomed, I did not enter with ill intentions.” she said in a calm tone.

Snatcher paused at that, he was used to his victims being utterly petrified with fear or screaming. So one that wasn’t all that phased at his entrance, even talking back to him in a calm and civil tone threw him for a loop.

“Whatever your intentions were, you entered my forest uninvited.” The ghost said, literally having no other excuse to be doing this.

The trespasser bowed her head. “Then what are intentions for this folly that I have unwittingly made.”

“Normally i’d eat your soul and toss your body,” the trespasser stiffened significantly, something the ghost noted for later, “but you’re a lucky one!”

The trespasser tilted her head, “Lucky?”

“Yep, you won the lottery, because I just happen to be missing a braindead servant!”

“How convenient?” she said sarcastically.

“That’s right! The old one got himself killed, his head popped off, and I need a new towel boy.”

Snatcher snapped his fingers and a piece of parchment with a quill appeared before her.

“So tell you what, I’ve got a piece of paper here! Don’t worry about the details! I just need you to sign right here at the bottom!”

She worried about the details, even though the contract was rather straightforward. She had to go to a place called Subcon Village and clear out the ice that had accumulated there. Bonus: entertaining the minions will get her some light work. She really didn’t like that her soul was being held hostage over what are just chores.

“Just to reiterate, you want me to do manual labor for x amount of time, with my soul as collateral, because I entered your forest unannounced when I could have just left at your request?”

“Yep.”

“And there is no chance to negotiate with you?”

“Nope.”

“And I really don’t have a choice that doesn’t lead to a confrontation of some sort.”

“HAH, kid I would murder you here if you refused my contract.”

With a groan and a defeated slump of the shoulders, the trespasser grabbed the quill and signed the contract.

Just before popping the contract back to his pocket dimension, he looked at the signature.

 _Searth_.

Odd name.


	4. Historical Misconceptions

Searth never thought that she would hate ice as much as she does now, but here she is, knee deep in freezing cold water hauling the bloody pieces unto shore so that she could deal with them later. And there were still pieces stuck at the bottom of the small pond.

She had taken off her poncho and knapsack a while ago. One of the many minions, the minion that she helped to be more specific, is wrapped up in the poncho like a blanket.

“Enjoying my poncho there?” Searth asked the minion rhetorically.

She got a thumbs up in response.

She chuckled as she made her way out of the water, deciding a break was in order.

Laying down on the grass not too far from the shore, Searth relaxed, humming a soft tune.

“Do you sing?” the burritoed minion asked suddenly.

Searth paused for a blink. “Yes, why do you ask?”

“You were humming and it was really pretty, I was wondering if you could sing for us?”

Tilting her head back, Searth saw that she amassed a decently sized group of minions and dwellers. Searth shrugged her shoulders as she sat up.

“Sure, just give me a moment to pick a song.”

Her crowd waited patiently for her to begin.

Searth ultimately settled on an old lullaby that was sung to her when she was little.

The minions and the dwellers were entranced, hypnotised by the song. Some would swear they heard the ocean’s wave hitting a distant shore, others would claim that they felt like they were at a beach with the water lapping away at their feet, and then there were a few who said nothing because they could not even begin to articulate what they felt, heard, and _seen_ while Searth sang.

She brought the song to a close, looking back at her audience.

“What did you think?”

Immediately, the entire crowd clapped and cheered, surprised Searth quite a bit. Enough so that she fell right back into the water. The crowd laughed at her as Searth resurface quickly after.

“Oh, so you think this is funny?” Searth said with mock offence.

The dwellers booked it, sensing the mischievous feeling in Searth’s aura.

“Come over here you little stinkers.” Searth playfully shouted.

The minions screamed and started to run away from a waterlogged Searth.

This is how Snatcher found the village when he came over to check on his contractor. The sounds of laughter echoed into the forest, bringing back many pleasant memories of better times. He amusedly watched his minions play with his contractor.

Having realized that they far out number her, the minions started to chase Searth around after one shouting ‘dogpile on Searth’. She was just a tiny bit ahead of them at all times, expertly dodge many of their attempts to knock her over.

Until a dweller decided that they wanted to play too, by wrapping around Searth’s head. Their actions startled her into losing her balance, and falling right back into the water, dragging the dweller with her.

Everyone laughed as she resurfaced with the dweller loosely wrapped around her neck. She laughed too, gently unwrapping the dweller from her neck.

“Alright everyone, you had your fun. I still have some work to do.”

The minions groaned and the dwellers showed their disappointment, but most left to do whatever they did.

The dweller wrapped around her neck was refusing to leave their new perch.

“Little one please, I have to go back into the water to get the last few chunks. Do you want to go back into the water?”

They refused to budge.

A few more unsuccessful attempts to get them off later, Searth shrugged her shoulders.

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She immediately dove into the water.

It took a few more trips to get the rest of the ice, but she did do her job in a decent amount of time.

Jostling her shoulder a little to get the dweller’s attention, Searth made her way to a cherry bomb.

“Last thing I need to do, little one. Mind helping me with this last bit?”

The dweller entered the cherry bomb with enthusiasm.

Quickly, Searth grabbed the cherry bomb and threw it at the ice pile. An explosion later, the last of the ice was gone. Her contract was complete.

That’s when Snatcher decided to announce his presence.

“You got that done fast enough.”

“It wasn’t too bad honestly, just tedious.” Searth commented, walking back to her poncho and knapsack, dweller wrapped around her neck once again. “Even got to blow stuff up, never got to do that back in The Valley.”

“Valley?” Snatcher asked.

“The Spirit’s Valley.”

“Not ringing any bells.” He was pretty sure that such a place didn’t exist, and a valley filled with ghosts is something that he would have heard about, eventually.

“I think it was called Rocterd at one point, like three centuries ago if I’m remembering correctly.”

Snatcher did a double take. He knew that place, in fact, all sorts of strange characters, wearing a similar garment to Searth’s, would come through Subcon coming from that place. Now that he was thinking about it, he realized why a lot of the Subconites and himself found Searth strangely familiar despite having never met her. She was a descendant of Rocterd, going on a pilgrimage for self discovery and purpose. But there was a problem with that.

Rocterd fell some time before Subcon did with no explanation. There should be no one who even _knew_ that Rocterd existed, much less be able to claim they came from that place.

If it was a valley filled with ghosts with what it’s being called now, there was very little chance that there would be any living descendants living there still.

Subcon’s survivors didn’t stick around after it fell for various reasons, the main one being that a certain **_ice witch_ ** was very much still active.

“I don’t know where you heard that name, kid. But Rocterd is a dead kingdom.”

“Rocterd didn’t die. Rocterd dissolved itself peacefully, and the original people left or stayed out of their own free will.” She said that like she said that many times before.

“Forgive me when I tell you that I don’t believe that, a place doesn’t get called ‘The Spirit’s Valley’ for no reason

He really hoped that he didn’t get a crazy in his forest.

“You think that the spirits in the valley are of the dead?” she said that like it was absurd.

Snatcher looked at Searth like she just grew another head.

Searth sighed, “There are more than one kind of spirit, my friend. You are something everyone knows, someone dead who either refuses or can’t move on, a ghost.”

He wasn’t sure where this was going.

“The spirits that I’m talking about, the ones that I can see but you can’t are the ones that help the world function. If I stay around long enough, you’ll learn to see them too.”

He wasn’t sure what to say to that. On one hand, she sounded absolutely bonkers. But on the other, she sounded so sure of herself and there wasn’t any sort of flux in her aura indicative to instability.

“Would it be easier to understand if I just showed you what they can do or already have influence right now.”

“If you even can.” Snatcher wasn’t going to believe this.

Suddenly, her _human_ hand wasn’t very human anymore. It was a silver, lightly scaled, webbed hand that looked like it belonged on someone that came from the ocean.

Searth moved her hand arm around a bit, showing that it was indeed _her hand_ before it just fell off like water. Her hand no longer looked like a fish hand, but the human one.

He had no idea how to react to that.

“My home is called The Spirit’s Valley because it's where a lot of world spirits live and breed. It just so happens that one of the many ways that they breed is by combining a small amount of their influence with another, or not depending on the spirit, and instilling it into an unborn child. The more influence instilled into a child, the more that child can call upon the power of the world spirits. Transformations like I just showed you is just one of them.”

Things were quiet for a bit.

“A bit much?” Searth asked, even though she had a pretty good idea of what the answer was.

Snatcher just nodded, his mind having a very hard time processing the new information.

“I’m just going to go set up camp somewhere, come get me if you need anything else done or if you have questions.”

And Searth walked away.

Eventually Snatcher went back to his hollow, and started frantically going through a bunch of old history books to see if Searth’s claims had any merit.

And he didn’t find anything to prove or disprove it. Though he did know of one book that may have the answers. But there was one problem with that.

The book in question was in **her** manor.

Looks like he knew what his new errand girl was doing tomorrow.


	5. Chilling Mistakes

Snatcher found Searth a little bit away from Subcon Village bright and early the next day. She had set up camp inside an old tree that wasn’t already fitted to be a home. If you call having a threadbare bedroll spread out and a knapsack leaning against a wall a ‘camp’ that is.

Snatcher would have thought she would have packed more than that. But it has been more than three hundred years since he’s last seen anyone on a pilgrimage, things could be different now.

Searth was sitting on a log outside of her little camp, reading a book.

“Another contract?” she asked, moving her head to look at him.

“Yep.” and with a snap of his fingers, the new contract appeared and floated over.

Searth took the parchment and quill, but still took time to read through it carefully. Snatcher found it oddly refreshing that this contractor took the time to read the contracts instead of skimming them and signing.

“So you want me to go to this manor and steal back a book, that’s it?” she sounded confused.

“That is all I want you to do.” He also found it satisfying that she asked questions before signing.

“Is the manor occupied?”

“Yes.”

“Is the occupant a danger?”

“Definitely.”

“Hn.” Searth looked off to the side contemplatively, lightly tapping her mask.

“Can you describe the book that I’ll be stealing.”

“You’ll know it when you see it. It’ll be an old monster of a book with a yellow cover, no title.”

“How big are we talking.”

“Like as big as your torso kid, and about as heavy.”

Searth signed, muttering, “lovely, just lovely.” before signing the contract.

One book put away and few more questions of _where_ the manor was, Searth made her way to the broken bridge as Snatcher went back to his hollow.

* * *

It was nearly ten at night when Snatcher finally sensed Searth’s aura making its way back to the bridge. Both cranky and slightly worried about what could have kept Searth for so long, he went to the bridge to see her over.

What he saw made him freeze.

Searth was still on the other side of the bridge, but she couldn’t make her way across. Her left leg was _frozen solid_ and her right arm was _partially_ _frozen_. Her clothes were torn in a few places and her hair was choppily cut short. but the real shock was her mask.

 _She didn’t have her mask_ . Instead, she used her hair to conceal her features. The only feature Snatcher could see was one _larger than normal_ , ocean blue eye.

He had no idea what could have gone so wrong, but his contractor very clearly went through hell and still got what she was sent out to do.

The book that he wanted was tightly held to her chest with her other hand.

Snatcher rushed over and picked Searth up, where she promptly passed out. He was amazed she managed to stay awake as long as she had, but he needed to get rid of that ice on her as fast as he could.

Dying by **_her_ **ice isn’t something that Snatcher wished on anyone.


End file.
